I have opened my door to the morning. It lies gentle on the cool, singing world. Gold is threading through the memory of night, over the ocean; light seems to be rising from the earth. I can hear cicada love songs, so long and so weary, and the little sparrow bells. I wish I could carry this morning in my heart all through the day. Civilisation is for extroverts. Sometimes to survive it requires the strength of the new morning's quiet - and plenty of tea.
This moment holds me in privacy, intimacy; a long wordless look between me and the sky. I can say so because the moment is gone now - the day broke abruptly into clarity, into a sudden vigour of light. Someone moved outside. I got up and closed my door. I will be out amongst the others soon enough. Trying to hear through all the noise. Trying to keep my own quiet. For now - tea, I think. And the lingering peace of the sky.